


The Rise Of The Assassin

by AlwaysAndForever14



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: AROUND THEIR F E E L I N G S, Alaric is a dick, Alaric's A+ Parenting, And WHOOP all his kids are gay, Assassin Hope, BEFORE WRITING ANY COMPLAINTS REMEMBER, Bad King Alaric, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hosie, I don't give a fuck, I just coughed rly loudly wow, I was reading Throne Of Glass and here we are, Implied Smut, In this book he's a massive disgusting homophobe, King Alaric, LESBIANS LETS GO LESBIANS, M/M, Maybe if I'm feeling brave I'll do a smut scene, Milton pretends to be an ass so does Rafael, Multi, Princess Josie, THAT SOUNDS SO KINKY I SWEAR IT ISNT, They dance, and they live in a time of castles and shit, but Hope sees THROUGH IT, but like, cause there wouldnt be much story without them dying lol, dont @ me i know this is a mess, he fucked up smh, he's just a bastard in this story lol, i am acc so sorry, i am aware, i am not a writer i just do this shit and before i can stop myself OOP ITS ON AO3, i mean i love alaric irl, idek what is this story can someone explain even I don't know and I wrote it??, idk what that era is called im so bad at history, im so mean, the author is so fuckin done, the gay, there's plot in here somewhere I swear, this is gayyy, we been knew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-06-24 18:48:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19729648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysAndForever14/pseuds/AlwaysAndForever14
Summary: Hope Marshall, a very well known assassin, is the daughter of Klaus Mikaelson, the leader of the Rebellion against the great, ruthless King Alaric. No one knows this, however, and her true identity has been kept a secret from anyone for many years. One day, she is captured by the King, and is forced to face many different challenges to prove that she is worthy of being the King's Champion. If she wins, her freedom will be granted after 5 years of service, if she loses, well, she dies. But, what will happen when she falls for the King's daughter, the Princess Josette? What will happen when she discovers that the palace hides many secrets? That some Champions are being murdered? What will happen when people reveal themselves to be the people that Hope had never truly expected? This tale is much more than what appears on the surface?Also known as the one where Hope is an assassin and everyone hates the king including his kids and they're all trying to find a way to escape his bitch-ass hands and join the rebellion but they S T RU G G L E cause P L O T





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> im terrible at writing plz don't sue

Hope looked up to face the Crown Prince, "You want me to WHAT?" She asked, her voice laced with disbelief as she spoke.

Hope was very much aware of her surroundings, very much aware of the guards that would no doubt stake her right where she knelt for even opening her mouth and speaking to the prince in that way. But, she would take her fucking chances with that one.

The prince smirked, leaning forwards in his throne. Hope would've rolled her eyes if not for the circumstances.

"You heard me," The Crown Prince said cockily, which made Hope raise an auburn eyebrow suggestively.

She was one of the kingdoms most notorious assassins. She could've strangled him within seconds and hung his rotting corpse from the chandelier chains of the grand Throne Room. The thought had crossed her mind several times, but she knew that she would've been killed in an instant by the many guards in the room. Her eyes subconsciously flickered over the stoic figures surrounding the two of them.

"Sorry, I think you might have to repeat it again," she snarked, face twisting in disgust for the twenty-three year old.

She did know not much about Milton Greasely Saltzman, but she did know that he was a royal, arrogant ass. And that was pretty much all she needed to know to hate him. His skin was a beautiful creamy caramel, and his chocolate brown eyes and pearly white teeth glistened in the natural sunlight, which REALLY pissed Hope off.

The Crowned Prince leaned forward in his throne, clearly amused, "I want you, Hope Marshall, to be my Champion in an upcoming competition." He repeated, being such a prick about all of this.

"What competition?" She spat, daring to look at the prince in the eyes.

"A competition," Oh he was really getting a kick out of this, "Where each member of the Kings Court nominates an assassin, a thief, a warrior, whatever. And you will compete the become the Kings Champion. If you win, you will become the King's champion." His eagerness was bursting through, it was hilarious. Hope desperately wanted to mock this situation, but she knew that she couldn't. She knew why she was here, and she was going to do everything in her power to make this situation the most non-humiliating situation ever.

"Lucky me," she sarcastically drooled, and she almost saw she saw the prince smile at that.

Questions were buzzing in the young woman's head, but she couldn't voice them all. For one; humiliation. And also, she knew if she spoke too much, she could be harmed. She didn't know much about the Prince Milton, but if he was anything like his father, then he was cruel and ruthless. 

"If you were to win, you'd win. But if you were to lose, you'd go back to prison, and die." Milton- sorry, the PRINCE, said. She hated him already. He had this aroma constricting around his frail body that made Hope want to hang herself just to get out of this conversation.

"What would happen once I was the Kings Assassin?" Hope queried, trying to make her voice as emotionless as physically possible.

"Well, you'd serve him for 5 years, and once you're done, we'll grant you complete freedom." All of the joking had left the prince now, and sincerity was granted to Hope, which definitely caught her by surprise. 

Hopes head snapped up at those last two words, "W-what?" She asked, her voice faltering. So much for emotionless...

"If you manage to complete all 5 years of service, then you will be granted your freedom." 

"Did your father make this offer?" She asked, wanting to laugh at how amazing that offer sounded.

"No," Milton shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "I did. In actuality, my father just wanted to kill you after you had finished serving him, but I managed to persuade him."

Hopes heart almost stopped. The offer sounded very very tempting. Only, would this be the life the her parents wanted for her? They wanted her to fight the system, not be part of it. Could she let them down like that?

Her father, Klaus Mikaelson, was the leader of massive rebel group that was fighting against the King and his rules.

The rebel group still stood, hiding somewhere in the mountains with her father. She had decided to stay behind, fight the battles in other ways as they prepared for...something. Klaus never told Hope what it was. She had wanted to help every single day she was trapped in her cell, but alas. 

Her mother, however, was a different story. She was a spy for the Rebellion, hiding from within the King's Council. Hope highly doubted she would ever see her mother again, but she knew that she had to make both of them proud. She had only met her mother one, and she had been too young to vividly remember her, which made all of it even more frustrating. She knew that her mother was out there, somewhere, and she had to make her proud.

But how could she do that if she was dead?

She looked at the prince credulously, "So, if I do partake in this competition, you will grant me my freedom?"

"That is correct,” Milton confirmed, his face returning to 'I'm an asshole' mode.

Hope huffed, glancing down at the shackles her hands were in. They were really stating to suck ass, “Oh, why the fuck not?”

Milton smiled, glancing at a guard near Hope, “Marshall, this is Captain Waithe.”

Hopes sight turned to a man with a long, black robe on. He bowed to the prince, before pulling back his hood to reveal soft brown eyes, caramel skin and closely cut hair.

Hope almost choked on air.

He was so young!

Hope had to stop herself from dropping her jaw at his youthfulness. His features were so gentle, but she could see some roughness on the exterior. He had muscles, but not too much for it to be too noticeable. She actually thought that he could be a decent guy, but that was quickly thrown away when the man glared at her.

Hope had a feeling that they weren’t going to get on well.

“Rafael,” The prince spoke up, “Take her to her chambers, give her some food and wash her. She looks like a filthy animal.”

Hope frowned before looking down at her appearance. He wasn’t wrong, she looked terrible.

Rafael grabbed her roughly by the elbow and almost dragged her up the castle steps.

“You seem friendly, don’t you?” Hope asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Rafael didn’t respond, he only continued to walk down the long, twisting corridor.

“And talkative,” she mumbled, trying not to wince as the chain hit a sore spot in her knee.

“I don’t talk to criminals,” was his brief response.

“Fair enough,” Hope muttered, her eyes wandering elsewhere.

Needless to say, everyone that Hope killed had deserved it. They had murdered, slaughtered, kidnapped, tortured, taken the lives of innocents. And they did all of that with a smile on their face.

Hope took no pleasure with her job, only the broken promise of ‘One day things will be better’. Her mother had told her this right before she left her, and Hope would never forget those 6 words. 

They had stuck with her for the past 18 years, become her moral compass without her even realising it. Everything that she had done, it was for a brighter future. 

Okay, she knew the irony in that. Kill a bunch of people for a better world. But it was true. As her father once told her, 'To be successful, sacrifices must be made'.

Rafael practically threw her into her chambers, removing her chains swiftly before giving her a poisonous look and locking the door behind him as he left.

Hope let out a scoff at his abruptness, looking down to the redness of her skin, how raw it was. She hadn't seen her forearms bear for weeks, and they weren't looking too great.

Hope picked herself up off of the floor, dragging herself to a large mirror that was placed in her room.

She smirked, she could easily use that mirror as a weapon, and kill each and every one of those stupid guards. Mainly Rafael, she HATED Rafael. And that was saying something, as she had only just met him and exchanged few words with him.

Instead, she just looked at her reflection.

Her complexion was a milky white, all colour drained of her cheeks long ago. Her facial features were hollow and sunken in, and she could see how sharp her cheekbones actually were. She could make out the faint freckles dotted on her cheeks, freckles she didn't even know that she had until now.

Her hair was filthy, having lost all its shine and beauty when she was captured months ago. Her eyes had lost all of its light and joy, and instead were sad and dull.

She lifted up her shirt slightly, and sucked in a breath as she saw her stomach. She could see her ribcage poking out from underneath the pale skin, as her stomach had lost all of its fat and shape ages ago.

She turned to look at her back, and cried out as she saw the damage that had been done there. A long scar was visible from her side to the middle of her back, accompanied by a smaller one across the top of her back and shoulder. She had to purse her lips to keep herself from crying. She had gotten those when she was being captured by guards. They weren’t very gentle, to say the least.

She used to be so beautiful, auburn hair done in perfect waves as her green eyes sparkled and glistened.

She sighed, looking over at the tub of water waiting for her on her right.

She bathed, scrubbing away all of her dirt and grime that she had received from being in prison for all of those months.

After she had done this, she looked back at herself in the mirror. Her skin was now relatively clean, it’s paleness gleaming in the moonlight supplied by the lone window in her chamber. Her hair was tangled and knotty, but had been scrubbed clean from all of its dirt, so now that its slight redness shone through once again. Her eyes were still dull, lifeless.

She collapsed onto her bed, closing her eyes almost instantly as fatigue washed over her like a wave in the ocean. It had been so long since Hope had slept on a proper comfortable bed. She had missed it.

With thoughts of doing her parents proud, the young assassin drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a life much better than this one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope and Rafael have a convo where they don't want to kill each other and Hope sees the love of her life....
> 
> Also don't expect daily updates from me I was just eager to get this chapter out lmao. I will probably be updating very irregularly and unexpectedly so I am so so sorry about that but like...yeah.

The next morning, Hope woke up to sunlight beaming down on her clothed body, filling her with warmth and happiness.

She shielded her eyes with her hand as a small smile spread across her face. She hadn’t seen sunlight in ages. When she was in her cell in the prison, there was no sunlight there. She didn’t even realise how much she missed it until now. It was the little things you ended up missing the most down there, she had grown to realise.

She was interrupted from her little moment when a man coughed from the front of the room.

Hope, by instinct, was on full alert, hopping to her feet and becoming increasingly aware of her surroundings. Her eyes were peeled for anything that she could use as a weapon for the unwanted intruder. 

“It’s only me,” An annoying voice called from the doorway.

Hope fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Rafael.

“Might I ask what you’re doing sneaking around in my chambers?” She asked, folding her arms over her frail chest, not wanting to admit that she was relieved it was him.

“I was ordered to get you,” Rafael said coldly, throwing her a shirt and some pants. They weren’t very stylish, but they would have to do, “Get changed,” he instructed, “And then eat. We have a long day ahead of us.”

Hope frowned, stopping Rafael as he turned to leave, “What do you mean?”

“We’re beginning our journey to the Capital,” he explained dryly. Damn, he didn’t like her. The feeling was mutual though, she had to admit.

“Oh,” Hope said shortly, which made Rafael scoff before turning to leave.

“As charming as always,” she called as he closed and locked the door behind him.

She jumped back on her somewhat comfy bed. She really didn’t want to leave, but she knew she had to. Besides, there were steel bars attached to the windows so she couldn’t get out. They had thought this through quite thoroughly.

Noticing her small meal to her right, Hope dug in to her food instantly, hunger taking over.

-

As they began their journey to the castle, Hope was chained to Rafael’s horse. It sucked, but she was going to make the most of her situation. She glanced at her surroundings, the woods looking beautiful this time of the year. The leaves were shedding their lush green for a crisp orange, red and yellow. The colours blended beautifully with bare branches. 

Hope longed to reach out and touch one. It had been so long since she had seen a tree. But she knew that the guards would think that she was trying to escape, and she would preferably like her head attached to her torso for the rest of the morning.

“How old are you?” She asked the Captain of the Guard, who was only a few feet ahead of her.

He simply raised an eyebrow, “That is none of your concern.” He said dryly, facing forwards one again.

Hope rolled her eyes, her shoulders slumped, “Come on, Captain. This journey is boring enough as it is. Might as well make it a little bit of fun.”

“I’ll have to decline the offer of fun with a dangerous, notorious assassin that has killed many, many people,” he said sternly, but Hope waved it away.

“That has nothing to do with age,” she argued.

Rafael sighed, his horse picking up the pace a tad, “I’m twenty-two,” he said quickly, glancing at Hope briefly before turning and facing the road once again.

Hope nodded in appreciation, “I’m eighteen,” she told him, which made him raise his eyebrows in shock, including a failed attempt of trying to hide it shortly following.

“Young, right?” Hope said with a broad smile, “People usually think I’m in my twenties. I never really got that, but I guess I just have a mature face.”

Rafael ignored her, but she kept the conversation going. Perseverance was key, as her uncle once told her.

“How old were you when you became the Captain?” She questioned further.

“Twenty,” Rafael replied, not looking at Hope once again.

Hope blew a stray piece of auburn hair from her face, “You’re no fun, do you know that?”

“You…” he growled lowly, “Are not my friend. You are a criminal that has slaughtered people.”

“Oh, and you haven’t?”

Rafael clenched his jaw, looking down with embarrassment and shame. Hope guessed she had hit a sore spot.

“I-“ she started, before being interrupted by none other than Milton Pain-In-The-Ass Saltzman.

“Lunch break,” he yelled, and all of the soldiers dismounted their horses and gathered around in a small circle, keeping their distance from Hope but still being close enough so that if she tried anything, they’d be able to stop her.

Hope rolled her eyes. She wasn’t THAT dumb.

She eyed Rafael the entire time. She hated the guy, sure. But she wondered about his dark past, and why he was so cold to everyone. 

It was probably because she was indeed a criminal, and that was that, but she had an itching feeling that it was something more. Maybe it was something she said? Something that she did? Hope knew that she shouldn't care, but a part of her did.

Milton came to sit next to Hope, and Hope froze mid-bite of her meat.

“Can I help you?” She asked in a sickly-sweet tone.

Milton rolled his eyes, “I just wanted to say that it’s only a couple more hours until we get to the Capital, so you should charge up with as much food as you can.”

Hope rolled her shoulders in discomfort. No way was she going to say this to the prince, but she was beyond nervous.

Why why why did she have to get herself captured?? If she was more careful, then she wouldn’t be in this predicament right now.

“Thanks,” she said in a tone that was the furthest from grateful, and Milton mumbled something under his breath before getting up and going to sit with Rafael.

Hope just wanted the competition to begin already, so she could get this over and done with.

-

When they arrived at the Capital, Hope was so intimidated by the castle that she almost fell off of her horse, which, much to her displeasure, Rafael laughed at.

“Shut up,” she mumbled, regaining balance on her horse as they ventured further and further into the grounds of the castle.

She nervously looked up to the castle. Wow, it was BIG. Like, really really big.

She gulped softly, craning her neck to try and see the top of the castle, but she couldn’t.

It was a pearly white, every single inch of it. It glistened in the afternoon sun, making it look like a heap of gems crammed together. The windows were wide and arched, probably so whoever was looking through it could get a good look at the kingdom below. The towers spiralled up and up, and they seemed to go on forever. The roofs were spiked, so much so that Hope thought someone could be impaled on them. Though, maybe that was the idea.

She huffed in defeat as Milton dismounted his horse and turned to face all of them, his stupid face already pissing Hope off.

“Now that we’re all here,” he began to explain, “No one can know that Hope is Hope Marshall. The only people that know of her true identity are the people standing right here and my father. If any of you open your mouth and go blabbing to people are this, I will not be happy. Understood?”

“Understood,” the soldiers all said in unison, which almost made Hope laugh. The irony of the fact that they all had to keep her name a secret, even though that wasn't actually her real name at all because Hope Marshall was a fake name, was too much to bear.

As she dismounted her horse, Rafael made his way towards her.

“Come on,” he said in a light tone, “I’ll show you where your chambers are.”

-

After she had been introduced to her chambers, Hope had bathed once again and began to get ready. Milton had assigned an entire team of servants to her to help her with everything, and she was overwhelmed by the help. She usually had to do everything by herself.

Rafael told her that in the afternoon, the entire court and the competitors were having a meeting to discuss the competition. She was to attend as ‘Myra Warnson’, a jewel thief who the prince had met many years ago when she tried to steal from him, and failed.

Hope snorted at that detail. Why on Earth would anyone- especially the Prince- choose a thief who tried AND failed to steal from him, to be the King's Champion? It made no literal sense to her.

She had put herself into a forest green dress, the bodice decorated finely with golden embroidery that made it’s way down to the upper parts of the skirt, which then puffed out beautifully. The bodice really defined Hopes figure as her auburn hair was falling down naturally, making the assassin feel more like herself. This dress was way too fucking tight for her liking.

When she was just about done getting ready, there was a light knock on her door.

"Come in," she called in a breezy tone. She was feeling much better now that she was clothed and cleaned. She looked at her appearance in the mirror, and was still slightly disappointed at her skinny frame. She could still see her ribs through her chest, and her facial features still looked tired and worn, but she had decided that she was going to get in shape. It would help both for her mental health and to help her prepare for the competition.

Rafael entered her chambers, giving the assassin a wary look at her sudden burst of happiness, "You're sounding rather chipper, Marshall."

"Oh, what a charmer you are, Waithe," she rolled her eyes teasingly. Wait, was that a smile she saw on Rafael's face?

Even if she wasn't imagining it, it was gone in an instant. 

"I've come to inform you that in half an hour, there's a meeting with the King to discuss the competition." He told her formally.

Hope's jaw dropped, "And you're just telling me this now?"

Rafael shrugged, "I thought that the element of surprise would do you some good."

Hope wanted to knock his teeth out and shove them forcefully down his throat so hard he choked on them so bad, "Well you thought wrong," she said venomously, shooting Rafael a dirty glare as she brushed her skirt hurriedly.

Rafael shrugged, an amused expression plastered on his face, "Well, I don't care for what you think. You're a deadly assassin, your opinions don't matter to me. Nor your moral compass."

Hope put a hand on her heart mockingly, "You wound me, Waithe."

Rafael clenched his jaw, "Well, you know what they say, Marshall. Sticks and stones."

A ghost of a smile appeared on Hopes face, illuminating her features and making her forest green eyes glisten, matching perfectly with the dress that she wore.

Rafael cleared his throat after a moment of silence passed between the two, "Anyway, we should probably head down now. We don't want to be late."

"Oh, we wouldn't want that," she shook her head sarcastically, which made Rafael roll his eyes teasingly at their banter.

"Enough of the games," he said sharply, "And lets head downstairs."

-

Hope swallowed as she entered the grand ballroom. Of course, she was not there to dance, or to have fun, even. But this was a meeting between the competitors that Rafael was forcing her to attend. If it were up to her, she'd be sleeping right now.

She shot Rafael a poisonous look when they weren't being watched.

"Remind me why I have to be here again," she asked through clenched teeth, smiling at people who stole a glance at her.

"Because," Rafael exclaimed, his grip on her upper arm tightening, "You need to scout out the competition. And besides, this is mandatory."

Hope groaned, which earned her a sharp nudge in her side from Rafael.

"Ow," she hissed, but covered it with a smile as they made their way to the front.

"Don't complain, quit whining and for God's sakes start acting like Hope Marshall," he instructed before giving her a rare pat on the shoulder, "I'll be at the front with Milton. Do not speak to anybody, do not do anything. Just stand there."

Hope was about to respond before he whisked himself back into the crowd, reappearing when the fanfare began to boom in the echoing hall.

She couldn't fucking believe Rafael expected her to stand there like a blubbering idiot. The NERVE that man had, honestly.

For the first time since she arrived, she saw the King. King Alaric was his name, and she had been taught to hate him since birth. Not like it was hard, though. The guy was an absolute DICK. 

He was standing tall on a balcony, leaning down and observing all of the people in the room.

Hope couldn't help but roll her eyes.

What an idiot...

"If I may have your attention," he yelled, over all of the quiet chatter, "Thank you. I would like to welcome you to the Kingdom. I am very pleased to have you all here competing to be of service to me," his grin made Hope want to puke.

"My two daughters, Elizabeth and Josette, are also delighted that you are here." He beamed, which Hope did not like at all.

Hopes gaze shifted from the King to the two girls standing behind him.

One of them had icy-blonde hair, pulled up and curled in a formal manner with a permanent pout on her lips. Her cold blue eyes contrasted well with her dress, which was no doubt made with some of the finest fabrics in the city.

But Hope's attention was not on that girl, for she was captured by the other girl’s beauty.

She had glossy, hickory brown hair that fell just past her shoulders, pulled up elegantly into a braided bun. However, some pieces of hair betrayed her and fell loosely past her head, its waviness close to perfection.

Her chocolate brown eyes bore into Hope's soul, filled with curiosity and interest for her surroundings.

Her face was tanned, cheeks pulled up into a smile as she looked down to all of them. Her facial features were soft, defining her cheekbones ever so slightly. It was clear that this girl was in good shape.

Her dress was a gorgeous light purple, sweeping the floor beneath her ever so slightly, revealing her flat shoes that she wore underneath.

Hopes breath hitched at the sight of her.

"And I invite you to join us for this feast. Let the competition commence!"

Cheers were yelled throughout the room, but none were heard from Hope.

She was too busy staring at the girl as she descended from the grand, marble staircase.

She was only broken from her trance when Rafael gently took hold of her elbow.

"Hope?" He asked quietly, a frown on his face.

"I'm fine," she said absently, tearing her eyes away from the girl to shoot Rafael a swift smile.

"Tell me, Raf-"

"Don't call me Raf."

She ignored him, "Tell me, Raf. Who's that?" She asked, pointing to the girl in question.

Rafael scoffed, "Who, her? That's Princess Josette. She's the youngest daughter of King Alaric. She just turned eighteen," Rafael gave her a look, "Why do you ask?"

Hope shrugged, "No reason. Just curious."

Rafael raised his eyebrows, but didn't question any further. She spent the rest of the evening scouting out the competition, trying to put the beauty of the princess out of her mind as she tried to focus on what really mattered: Staying alive.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope and Josie officially meet, Rafael is a little h o e and someone gets an ass-whooping

Hope woke up before dawn the next morning in order to train.

Last night, King Alaric announced that the competition would commence in 2 days, and that the competitors should use that time to train.

And train, Hope planned to do.

Hope had so much to do in the span of two days. She needed to work on her speed, agility, flexibility, stealth, stamina, weapon skills, eating and sleeping habits. 

She thought about this as she jogged through the Palace gardens, trying to keep her breathing steady as she took in the cool, crisp Autumn air around her.

Her pants and shirt fits her breezily as she jogged, darting around the Palace tracks as the sun began to rise. It had been a while since she last ran, and she needed to take some time for her body to fully get into it. Unfortunately, it was taking a lot longer than Hope had hoped.

After roughly 30 minutes of running, she doubled over and fell to her knees by a old oak tree, gasping for breath as her lungs were ablaze.

She almost choked from the lack of air, wheezing and coughing. She knew she was pushing herself too hard, but she couldn't stop. The competition was too soon for her to take things slow. She had to get better at everything, and she had little time to do it.

She panted roughly, wiping the sweat that was forming on her forehead with the back of her sleeve. trying to ease her breath back to its normal state.

She pressed her forehead against the bark of the tree, closing her eyes shut as she tried to steady her breath. She had taken Rafael's advice with not eating before going on a run, because if she did, she probably would be throwing up her guts right about now.

Once her breathing had calmed, she allowed her body to relax. It was too early for anyone to see her show signs of weakness anyway.

Well, that was until...

"You're quite fast, you know."

Hope's head whipped around in the area where the voice came from, trying to locate the source.

Her heart flipped when she saw who it was. It was Princess Josette. But what was she doing up so early in the morning, and in a light grey long-sleeved shirt and dark pants? In Hope's opinion, she still looked absolutely stunning, but still. That was besides the point.

Hope cleared her throat, suddenly self-conscious of her appearance in front of the girl, "Princess Josette," she managed to get out, her cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. But she could probably blame that on the running.

The princess waved that away with a simple hand gesture, which was performed elegantly, "Ugh, I hate it when people call me that. Please, call me Josie."

Oh my God, she seemed so casual and comfortable. 

Hopes shoulders relaxed slightly, giving her a weak smile. She was surprised that she had lasted this long, to be fair.

"You're the only female competitor?" Josie questioned, which Hope nodded to.

"Yup. So no pressure," she said with a lazy smile, but then realised who she was talking to and rearranged her face.

"If I may ask, what are you doing up so early, and wearing, that type of clothing?" Hope asked, pointing to Josie's clothes.

"I get nightmares, and I couldn't get back to sleep. And I hate wearing those types of dresses, they're so uncomfortable."

Hope nodded her head in understanding, "Right? I haven't worn a dress in months and it was painful, I cant imagine what it would be like to wear one almost every single day."

Josie's lips spread into a warm smile, "No one ever speaks to me like that. So...casually."

"Oh...I-I I'm sorry-" Hopes mind spun into a panic zone. Of course she had to fuck everything up and step out of line to the cutest girl she had ever seen in her life!

"No, no," Josie interrupted, "Don't be. It's a good thing. A great thing, actually."

Hope blushed at that, biting down on her lower lip as she looked at the princess. Her initial thoughts of princesses being snobbish had vanished, and had been replaced with thoughts of how beautiful and kind Josie was. Which was unusual for someone of her social status.

"I just thought I'd inform you that I know who you are, my father told me." Josie said with ease

Hope's heart skipped a beat with dread. The princess would definitely stay away from her now. She had grown a massive reputation of herself whilst assassinating all of the people who deserved a fate even worse than death. She was lucky that the King didn't know who her parents were, because if he did, then she would be hanging by a Gallows tree by now.

"You have every right to hate me," Hope mumbled. She never enjoyed killing people, in fact most of the time she had no choice in the matter, but that didn't change the fact that she did it. She stared into their eyes and plunged a dagger into their chests. And no apology could ever change that.

"I...I don't. I am well aware of how the assassin system works. No doubt you had no choice but to do it, am I correct?" The princess asked, arching her perfectly plucked eyebrow.

Hope blinked at the princess, astonished, "Uh-uh-uh, y-yeah." She stumbled for words, frankly at a loss for them.

Josie smiled, taking a step closer to the young assassin, "Then what is there to hate?"

Hope's lips parted, "The fact that I've killed people?"

"Involuntarily," Josie added, which made Hope scoff with amusement.

Josie nodded to a bench nearby, and began to walk with Hope to sit on it, "I know that you probably hate my father."

"Understatement of the year," Hope mumbled under her breath, but Josie heard it in the quiet morning.

"But, you have to know that I don't agree with most of the things that he does. Of course, I can't say anything because I'll be accused of treason and thrown in the dungeons, but it doesn't mean that I support his decisions."

Hope was beginning to like this girl the more and more she spoke. She stared at the girl in awe. She was telling all of these things to Hope, even though she barely knew that girl. She guessed that the princess knew that Hope wasn't going to tell anyone, as Hope hated the king more than Josie ever could.

Hope's opened her mouth to say something to the princess, but then a voice spoke from behind them.

"Marshall, what the hell are you doing out of your room, and talking to her Majesty?"

Hope scrambled at the words Rafael spoke, stumbling to her feet, "I...uh...I'm...just...uh..."

Josie laughed joyously, facing Rafael, "Captain Waithe, do not punish her. She did nothing wrong." She assured him.

"She left her room in the middle of the night, unaccompanied. She could've killed you-"

"You and I both know that that's a lie," Josie interrupted. Hope had to admire her boldness, as much as she loved to tease Rafael, she would never have the guts to stand up to him like that. Ever.

"But, your Highness-"

"I know, Rafael, you're just doing your job. But I can assure you, she and I were merely having a conversation."

"Well that's lovely," Rafael said bitterly, shooting an icy glare at Hope over the princess' shoulder, "But I need to take Ms Marshall back to her chambers, where she is supposed to be."

Hope couldn't help but roll her eyes at that, picking out dirt from underneath her fingernails boredly, wanting this to be over with already. She had already embarrassed herself enough.

Josie nodded, "I understand," she turned to Hope, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Hope." She extended her hand out, intending for Hope to shake it. It was the first time she had addressed Hope by her name, and her name sounded beautiful when Josie said it. Anything sounded beautiful when Josie said it.

She shakily took Josie's hand, shaking it lightly as a light blush flew to her cheeks at their contact. Her hand was soft and warm as she took it in her own.

Hope quickly pulled away, humiliation seeping into her slowly as Rafael placed a hand on the small of her back and 'lead' her away.

When they were out of sight from Josie's eyes, Rafael grabbed Hope's forearm in a bruising, tenacious grip, which made Hope gasp from surprise.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He hissed, grip tightening even harder.

"I...it wasn't my fault. She approached me, and who am I to refuse the princess?"

Rafael scoffed, grip loosening, "You don't get it, do you?"

A silence fell between the pair.

"You," he jabbed Hope in the chest, "Are an assassin. And she, is the princess."

Hope pursed her lips. Of course he didn't trust her. How could he?

"Okay," she finally spoke up. She didn't apologise, she wasn't one to apologise.

Rafael grumbled something that Hope couldn't hear, and tugged her back to her chambers. Hope was internally smiling, however, because she met someone that didn't want to kill her or treated her with hostility. And it was, of all people, the princess.

-

It had been a couple of days since Hope and Josie had met, and Hope hadn't seen her since. She had a sneaking suspicion that Rafael had something to do with it, but she never questioned it. Let her rephrase that; she didn't DARE question it.

And here they were, in training, about to fight. So this was the perfect opportunity to find out.

Rafael tossed her a sword, "No one's around, so you can fight with your full potential." He pointed with his sword to the weapons rack. “Pick one.” His eyes shone with the challenge as she untied her cloak and tossed it behind her, it landing on the floor with a small noise. “Let’s see if you can actually back up your claims of being so great at sword-fighting.” He said, but Hope didn't take the bait.

All the weapons were finely made, and glistened in the sunlight that was supplied by the many open windows. Hope eliminated her options one by one, seeing each weapon for what sort of damage she might do to the captain’s face.

Her heart beat rapidly as she ran a finger across the blades and handles of each. She found herself torn between the hunting daggers and a lovely rapier with an ornate bell-guard.   
The sword whined as she drew it from the stand and held it in her hands. It was a good blade—strong, smooth, light. They wouldn’t let her have a butter knife on her table, but they gave her access to this?

Why not wear him down a bit? She thought to herself, grinning internally. This was finally her chance to kick his ass, and boy was she going to enjoy it.

Rafael tossed his cape on top of hers, drawing his sword. “On your guard!” He moved into defensive position, and Hope looked at him dully.

Who do you think you are? What sort of person says, “On your guard”?

“Aren’t you first going to show me the basics?” she said quietly enough for only him to hear, her sword dangling from one hand. She rubbed the hilt, her fingers contracting on the cool surface. “I was in prison for a year, you realize. I could have easily forgotten.”

“From the amount of injuries that went on in your section of the prison, I highly doubt you’ve forgotten a thing.”

“That was with a rusty nail and a brick,” she pointed out, an auburn eyebrow arched. “All I had to do was crack a man’s head open or hurl the nail into his stomach. If you consider that sort of gracelessness equal to swordsmanship . . . what sort of fighting do you do, Captain Waithe?” She put a spare hand over her heart and closed her eyes for emphasis.

With a growl, the Captain of the Guard lunged.

With a turn of her arm she brought the sword into blocking position, her legs bracing for the impact as steel struck steel. The noise was strange, somehow more painful than receiving the blow, but Hope thought little of it when he charged again and she met his weapon, parrying with ease. Her arms ached as they were shaken from their slumber, but she continued to deflect and parry.  
Swordplay was like dancing—certain steps must be followed or else it would fall apart. Once she heard the beat, it all came rushing back. The other competitors faded away into shadows and sunlight.

“Good,” he said through his clenched teeth, blocking her thrust as she forced him to take a defensive stance. Her thighs burned and ached, but she pushed through. “Very good,” he breathed. He was pretty good himself—better than good, actually. Not that she’d tell him that.

With a clang, the two swords met, and they pressed each other’s blades. He was stronger, and she grunted at the force required to hold her sword against his. But, strong as he might be, he was not as quick.

"By the way, Captain, I've been meaning to ask you. What's the deal with me not seeing the Princess at all over the past few days? Did you have a hand in that?"

She withdrew and feinted, her feet jabbing and flexing on the floor with perfect grace. Caught off-guard, he only had time to deflect, his parry lost in his size. And she is aware that you all have dirty minds, so she didn't mean what you probably thought she meant by 'size'. 

"Don't know what you're talking about," he denied.

Angry abut his lies, she surged forward, her arm coming down again and again, twisting and turning, loving the smooth ache within her shoulder as the blade slammed against his. She was moving fast—Faster than she had ever done in her life. Faster than she had done during training with her father.

He kept up, and she allowed him to advance before reclaiming the position. He tried to catch her unawares with a blow to the face, but her anger awoke as her elbow snapped up and deflected, slamming into his fist and forcing it down.

Rafael grunted at that, and Hope grinned in victory, giving him a hand to help him up. But before he did, he pulled the hand, catching her off guard and making her tumble to the ground, yelping as she did so.

“I win,” he breathed.

She pushed herself onto her elbows. “You had to resort to tripping me. That’s hardly winning at all.”

“I’m not the one on the floor,” he said with a smirk, which made Hope glare at him.

“You have the skills,” Rafael said, “but some of your moves are still undisciplined.”

"Yeah no shit," Hope snarled, but she couldn't stay hostile for long. It was too exhausting.

Rafael chuckled, "Come on, that's enough fighting for one day, the first official meeting is tomorrow. So rest, prepare yourself, and eat something. You still look like a twig."

Hope growled lowly before picking herself up off of the floor and heading to her chambers once again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope isn't physically fit and it actually shows

It was the next day, and all of the Champions wee being called to the training room once again. Hope made sure to be early, and in 'appropriate clothing', as Rafael liked to call it.

She entered the training room, eyes scanning around as she did so. She didn't know any of her fellow competitors, but she did see one called Malivore, who was competition for everyone in the room.

He was bulky, brawny arms and broad-chested, his muscles were so big that you could probably see them from a different continent, he had a stubbly chin, and a resting frowney-face. Hope rolled her shoulders as she looked at him. She knew that he would be tough to beat. But she'd find a way to make it work. She always did.

Once everyone was in the room (she assumed), a man bashed a staff against the marble floor, making everyone face his way. Her eyes found a tall, strong-looking man standing in the centre of the room.

“Your attention now,” the man called. Hope looked to Rafael, who nodded, leading her as they joined the twenty other competitors encircling the man. “I’m Kaleb, Weapons Master and a judge of this competition. Of course, our king’s the final judge of you idiotic lot, but I’ll be the one determining every day if you’re fit to be his Champion.”

He patted his sword hilt, and Hope had to admire the beautiful woven gold hilt . “I’ve been Weapons Master here for fifteen years, and lived in this castle for fifteen more than that. I’ve trained many a lord and knight—and many a would-be Champion of the kingdom. It will be very hard to impress me.”

“The king’s already told you all there is to know about this competition,” Kaleb said, holding his hands behind his back. “But I figured you lot are itching to know more about each other.” He pointed his index finger at Malivore. “You. What’s your name, occupation, and where do you hail from? And be honest about it—I know none of you are bakers and candlestick makers.”

Malivore’s insufferable grin returned, which made Hope roll her eyes, “Malivore, soldier in the king’s army. I hail from the Mystic Falls Hills.” Of course he did. She’d heard tales of the people that lived there, and what they had to do to survive, and seen a few of them up close, seen the fierceness in their eyes. Many of them had rebelled against Saltzman—and most wound up dead. What would his fellow hill-dwellers say if they could see him now? She gritted her teeth; what would the people of her town say if they could see her now?  
Kaleb, however, either didn’t know or didn’t care, and didn’t even give a nod before he pointed to the man to Malivore’s right. Hope immediately took a liking towards him. “And you?”

A slender, tall man with thinning blond hair surveyed the circle and sneered. “Ryan Clarke. Master Thief of Melisande.” Master Thief! That man? Of course, she realized, his reed-thinness probably aided in slipping into houses. Maybe it wasn’t a bluff.

One by one, the nineteen other competitors introduced themselves. There were four more seasoned soldiers—all of them thrown out of the army for... questionable behaviour, which must have been truly questionable, given that the king’s army was notorious for ruthlessness. Then there were the three other thieves—including the dark-haired, gray-eyed Landon Kirby, whom she’d actually heard of in passing, and who’d been giving her such charming smiles all morning. The three mercenaries looked ready to boil someone alive, and then there were the two shackled murderers.

One of these murderers was called Connor Fletchin. He looked surprisingly plain, with mousy brown hair, tan skin, and average height, though Hope had trouble not staring at his scar-flecked mouth. The other murderer was Roman Sienna, who’d gone for three years under the name Mansen, for the weapon he’d used to torture and hack apart temple priestesses. It was a wonder they hadn’t executed either man, though from their tanned skin, she guessed they’d spent the years since their captures toiling under the sun in the deserts before coming here to compete.

Next came two scarred, silent men who seemed to be cronies of some far-off warlord, and then the five assassins.

She immediately forgot the names of the first four: a gangly, haughty boy; a hulking brute; a disdainful runt of a man; and a sniveling, hawk-nosed prat who claimed he had an affinity for knives. They weren’t even in the Rebellion- though she doubted her father would ever allow them in. The Rebellion wouldn't trust them, and they would probably switch sides to save their sorry little lives. She’d have to keep an eye on them, but at least they weren’t the Silent Assassins from the windswept dunes of the Red Desert. Those would be worthy of her—they’d make her sweat a bit. She’d spent a month training with them one burning summer, and her muscles still ached at the memory of their grueling exercises. Her father told her that it would 'assist her later on in life'. So that was a fucking lie, Dad.

The last assassin, who called himself Jed, made her pause. He was slight and short, with the kind of wicked face that made people quickly look away. He’d entered the room wearing shackles, and only had them removed when his guards—all five of them—gave him a stern warning. Even now, they stood nearby, watching him relentlessly. As he introduced himself, Grave flashed an oily smile, eyeing her body up and down. She willed herself to hold his hungry gaze.

“And you?” Kaleb said, cutting into her thoughts.

“Myra Warnson,” she said, holding her chin high. “Jewel thief from Bellhaven.”

Some of the men sniggered, and she clenched her teeth. They’d stop their laughing if they knew her true name, if they knew that this “jewel thief” could skin them alive without a knife. They'd be crying if they knew who her parents were- who her father was. The joy of that thought was enough to allow her to push through. 

“Fine,” Kaleb said, waving a hand in a 'you'll have to do' way. “You all have five minutes to gear up and do whatever the hell you need to do. Then we’re on a mandatory run to see how fit you are. Those of you who can’t run the distance go home, or back to whatever prison your sponsors found you rotting in. Your first Test is in five days; consider us merciful it’s not sooner.”

With that, everyone scattered, the Champions murmuring to their trainers about whatever competitor they deemed the biggest threat. Malivore or Jed, most likely. Certainly not a jewel thief from Bellhaven. Rafael remained beside her, watching the Champions stride off. She hadn’t spent eight years building a reputation and a year in the disgusting prisons to be disregarded like this. “If I have to call myself a jewel thief again—”

Rafael raised his brows. “You’ll do what, exactly?”

Hope scoffed, “Do you know how insulting it is to pretend to be some nobody thief from a small city in Fenharrow?”

He stared her down, quiet for a moment. “Are you that arrogant?” She bristled, but he went on. “It was foolish to spar with you yesterday. I’ll admit that I hadn’t realized you’d be that good. Thankfully, no one noticed. And do you want to know why, Myra?” He took a step closer, his voice lowering. “Because you’re some pretty little girl. Because you’re a nobody jewel thief from a small city in Fenharrow. Look around.” He half-turned to the other Champions. “Is anyone staring at you? Are any of them sizing you up? No. Because you’re not real competition. Because you don’t stand between them and whatever freedom or wealth they’re looking for.”

“Exactly! It’s insulting!” Hope argued, and Rafael disregarded her feelings.

“It’s smart, that’s what it is. And you’re going to keep a low profile throughout this entire competition. You’re not going to excel, and you’re not going to tease and mock and better those thieves and soldiers and unknown assassins. You’re going to stay solidly in the middle, where no one will look your way, because you’re not a threat, because they’ll think that you’ll be eliminated sooner or later, and they should focus their attention on getting rid of bigger, stronger, faster Champions like Malivore."

“But you’re going to outlast them,” Rafael continued, and Hope listened intently. “And when they wake up on the morning of the final duel and find that you are their opponent, and that you have beaten them, the look on their faces will make all of the insults and lack of attention worthwhile.” He extended his hand to lead her outside. “So, what do you have to say about that, Myra Warnson?”

“I can look out for myself,” she said lightly, taking his hand. “But I have to say that you’re rather brilliant, Captain. So brilliant, actually, that I might give you one of the jewels I plan to steal from the queen tonight.”

Rafael chuckled, and they strode outside to where the running contest awaited. Oh, this was going to be a disaster.

-

And a disaster it was. Her lungs burned and her legs were like lead, but she kept running, kept her position in the middle of the pack of Champions. Kaleb, Rafael, and the other trainers—along with three dozen armed guards—followed them around the game park on horseback. Some of the Champions, Jed and Connor included, had been given long chains. She supposed it was a privilege that Rafael hadn’t locked her up, too. But to her surprise, Malivore led the pack, and was nearly ten yards in front of the rest of them. How could he possibly be that fast? She thought to herself, almost in awe of the muscular idiot, before scowling at herself at the idea of praising him.

The sound of crunching leaves and laboured breathing filled the warm autumn air, and Hope kept her gaze on the damp and gleaming dark hair of the thief in front of her. One step after another, one breath in, one breath out. Breathe—she had to remember to keep breathing.

Ahead, Malivore turned a corner, heading north—back toward the castle. Like a flock of birds, they followed him. One step after another, never slowing down. Let them all watch Malivore, let them plot against him. She didn’t need to win the race to prove she was better—she was better without any kind of validation that the king could give her! She missed a breath, and her knees wobbled, but she kept upright. The run would be over soon. Soon. She just wanted it to be over and done with so she could retreat to the safety and comfort of her chambers.

She hadn’t even dared to look behind her to see if any had fallen. She could feel Rafael’s eyes on her, though, reminding her to keep in the middle. At least he had that much faith in her. She thought he was just going to frown at her the entire time, so this was a step up.

The trees parted, revealing the field that lay between the game park and the stables. The end of the path. Her head spun, and she would have cursed at the stitch that lanced through her side had she had any breath to do so. She had to stay in the middle. Stay in the middle. She kept reminding herself.

Malivore cleared the trees and raised his arms above his head in victory. He ran a few more feet, slowing his pace to cool down, and his trainer cheered for him. Hope’s only response was to keep her feet moving. Only a few yards left. The light of the open field grew brighter and brighter as it approached. Stars flashed before her eyes, swarming in her vision. She had to stay in the middle. Years of training with her father and many other soldiers had taught her the dangers of giving up too easily.

"Never give up," her father's voice rang in her head, "If you do, then you're just giving them what you want. And you must never do that, Hope. It shows weakness."

Then, she was through the trees, and the open field surrounded her in an explosion of space and grass and blue sky. The men in front of her slowed to a stop. It was all she could do to keep from sinking to her knees, but she made her legs slow, slow, slow, made her feet walk, made herself take breath after breath as the stars continued bursting before her eyes.

“Good,” Kaleb said, reining his horse and surveying whoever had first returned. “Get water. We’ve got more training after this.”

Are you actually fucking joking-


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hope gets blushy and so does josie and then we get a flashback of some whore and then we get Rafael fluff as requested :/

Hope was so exhausted from the run that she planned to return to her room and rest for an eternity, but that plan was put on hold when, on the way to her rooms, she bumped into the Princess.

"Princess," she bowed immediately, which made Josette laugh. Her ears pricked up at the sound, delight oozing into her 'stone cold' soul. Oh, who was she kidding? Though she'd never admit it to anyone (especially Rafael) she was secretly a softie.

"For the last time, Hope. Call me Josie." She huffed. She was dressed a lot more formally than she was the last time the duo had met. She was wearing a lovely lilac silk dress with pale pink lace accents and pearl beading. Hope had to admit, she looked stunning. Hope felt more underdressed than ever in her sweaty clothing. Josie seriously would beat her anytime, though, even if Hope had taken a million beauty potions.

"Sorry," she said weakly, forcing a smile on her worn lips. She was so fucking tired, but a conversation with the princess was a rare opportunity, so she had to embrace it.

"Why are you...you know..." Josie glanced up and down Hope's figure, pointing out how sweaty she was.

"Oh," Hope subconsciously fixed her hair, "We were doing a running test. And now my throat's all dry and my legs are exhausted and my lungs feel like they're about to explode and-" she cut herself off, realising she was rambling. It was like she was a magnet to making a fool out of herself.

Josie giggled though, "If you're thirsty, you could come to my room and get some water?" She suggested.

Hope wanted to say yes immediately, any excuse to spend more time with this angel. But, then she remembered the last time she spent time with the princess, Rafael didn't let her speak to anyone for days. If he found out they had even spoken, he'd physically explode into a thousand pieces.

"I would love to, except, Rafael..." she trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence.

Josie waved her away, "It's fine, the captain will understand once I speak with him."

Josie gently took Hope's elbow and steered her into the direction of her bedroom. Hope blushed at the contact, as did Josie.

"I doubt he will," she muttered to the princess, and the princess swallowed lightly.

"Then I guess he'll just have to deal with it."

Damn, Josie.

-

Hope had known since a very young age that she wasn't like other girls. The girls in her training class used to speak of finding their Prince Charming, and marrying and having many children. They asked Hope what she wanted to do when she grew up, and she told them that she didn't want to marry a man. They had all gasped with shock, and told her that she would change her mind someday.

And Hope waited for that day to come, the day when she'd look at a guy and see her life flash before her. The feeling of safety and comfort and love. She tried so hard to feel something for someone, anyone. She didn't understand why it was so easy for all of her classmates to fall in love with each other.

She confided in her father about this, and her father just told her that sometimes one's soulmate isn't a person. It can be work, or a pet, or family. A soulmate didn't have to be romantic. So, she spent a few months thinking that her soulmate wasn't a person. Well, that was until...

As Hope grew up, she began to understand why she felt different to other kids. And it all started with a girl in her class. Her name was Celestria, and she was absolutely stunning, long and lean, each of her features perfectly formed and smooth, her caramel skin glistening glamorously in the sunlight. Her hazel eyes were gentle, welcoming. Her smile was the most beautiful sight Hope had ever seen. Well, for a fifteen year old. Hope had felt something stir from deep inside her, like a door had been unlocked from her very inner core.

Her and Celestria were the best in the class, and would stay behind class to train together. They would constantly try to better the other, but Celestria always ended up winning, so matter how hard Hope tried to trick her. They were both a challenge to the other, in more ways than one. She remembered one specific session that the pair had had after class. She remembered it as clear as day.

_ Hope gasped as her spine hit the marble floor once again. Celestria always won their fights, and it was really starting to piss Hope off.

"I win," Celestria grinned, "Again."

Hope pouted, "That's not fair." She took Celestria's helping hand and pulled herself back up, brushing the dust from her clothes.

Celestria giggled and shook her head in amusement, "It's because you're standing wrong. You're standing like a pencil, but what you really need to stand like...is this."

Celestria grabbed Hope from behind her, placing one hand on her hip and another on her thigh. Hope was suddenly very aware of every movement that both of the girls were making.

Celestria gently guided her body into the correct position, her touches wavering for a second longer than they should have, lingering over Hope's body.

Hope took a sharp intake of breath as Celestria moved her hand further up Hope's thigh, ghosting her hip and resting on her waist. Hope had to stifle a moan and fought the urge to shiver.

Celestria moved impossibly closer to the younger assassin, her breath tickling Hope's neck in the process, "Like that," she whispered, and Hope's head turned to look at her. Ocean blue eyes met an autumny hazel, seeming perfectly fit for each other then and there.

Hope's fingers met Celestria's on her waist, entwining their hands together. The contact of their skin was enough to push Hope over the edge. Her eyes flickered down to Celestria's lips, but Celestria already beat her to it.

Before either girl knew what was happening, Celestria leaned closer and kissed up the side of Hope's neck, her kiss warm and poison to Hope. Hope feared she would be addicted to Celestria's gentle, soft kisses, and she'd have to keep on coming back for more. Hope bit down on her bottom lip, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she turned and gripped Celestria's neck for support.

She hesitated, looking up at Celestria, who just stared right back at her.

She had been waiting for this moment for a long time. 

She caught Celestria's lips on her own, and Hope moaned against her lips, Celestria's hands finding Hope's auburn hair, running her fingers through the silky strands, caressing her head. Hope adored the feeling of Celestria's lips against her own, the feel of her arms around Celestria, the feeling of them together.

Their kiss intensified, deepening madly as Hope's body hit the wall. Hope kissed Celestria passionately, suddenly not caring if someone walked in on them then and there.

It was only when Celestria began tugging at Hope's T-Shirt in an attempt to take it off when Hope started to panic. Hope broke the kiss to look up at Celestria, "I...I don't-"

Celestria shushed her with a finger, "It's okay, I've done it lots of times, with both boys and girls," she quirked an eyebrow at Hope, but Hope wasn't amused.

"That's not what I'm afraid of," Hope told her, and saw that Celestria was now nipping at her neck lightly. Hope shifted.  
Hope broke the kiss and squirmed a bit, anxiety welling up in the younger teenager. "Celestria," she then said hesitantly, opening her eyes.   
Celestria ignored her, and Hope put a hand on her chest, pressing on it . "Celestria!" she said, a little firmer. Tears begun to form in her eyes. She hadn't cried in a long long time.  
Celestria opened her eyes in annoyance. "Relax, Hope. It's not that hard." she murmured.  
Hope winced, and pushed at her arm. "I-I don't want it." she stuttered. 

Celestria finally pulled away to look at Hope, "I-I'm sorry. It's totally fine if you don't want to, I can wait."

Her words put Hope at ease once again. Why did she ever think that Celestria would pressure her into doing something she didn't want to do? She should've never doubted Celestria.

"It's okay," she told the older girl, and she meant it. It was okay, "I just...I want my first time to be special. Not a quicky done when we're sweaty and disgusting after practise and we do it on the dirty floor," she let out a humourless chuckle.

Celestria nodded, "I get that. You're right. Just because I've done it lots of times doesn't mean that your first time shouldn't be special."

Hope cupped Celestria's cheek with her hand, "I'm so glad you understand."

Celestria let out a giggle before connecting their lips once again. _

That was when she was sixteen. She had seen Celestria secretly for over a year. No one had ever found out about them, and Celestria had wanted to keep it that way. They'd constantly meet up in dark rooms, places that no one knew about. Hope desperately wanted to talk to her father about it, but Celestria would never let her. She said that it would lead to nothing but trouble, and Hope believed her.

She was happy with Celestria, and she didn't want to ruin her chances with her. Celestria never failed to tell Hope that so many people would kill to be with her, and Hope was lucky that Celestria even waisted her time with her. Hope was happy with Celestria, and she was even close to loving the girl. And she didn't think that Celestria would ever do anything to harm her, despite her empty threats to dump her for someone better.

..that was...until...that night.

She was supposed to go on a mission with Celestria. They were supposed to kill a privileged Lord, quietly and quickly, and return to Headquarters. That was, until, Celestria didn't show up.

Hope remembered that she had waited for Celestria for hours and hours, being bored out of her skull as she did so. She didn't think that Celestria would forget about something s important. Forget about her. Yet here she was, standing here like an idiot hoping that she would round the corner and apologise for being so late.

But, it became apparent that she wasn't going to show. So, Hope turned to leave. But, she was stopped.

That was the night that she was caught by the Army of The King. That was the night she had learned that Celestria was a spy for the King. That was the night that she had learned that Celestria had betrayed her. She was so heat-broken, so hurt, so confused. It changed something inside Hope for the worst, making her have a different view on love. It was a way to manipulate people, get them to do what you wanted them to do. She hated loved, she hated Celestria. But most of all, she hated the King. For taking away what mattered the most to her: Her faith. Her faith in humanity, in love, in people. 

-

Hope had gotten back from Josie's room at noon, smiling to herself as she entered her chambers. She pressed her forehead to her bedroom door, pursing her lips to contain her giggles.

She had no idea that a single person could have such an impression on her. Everything that Josie did hypnotised Hope, and she had to stop herself from thinking so many thoughts. She hadn't felt this way since Celestria, and it was like she realised how amazing it felt to feel this way. God, why did she ever stop?

"And where the fuck were you?" A voice asked from behind her.

She suppressed an annoyed groan, closing her eyes and clenching her fists before turning to Rafael with a broad smile.

"I was getting water," she said.. Technically, it wasn't a lie. She was getting water, just with the princess. She wasn't supposed to be WITH said princess, but Rafael didn't need to know the details.

"For two hours?" He asked, brows raised.

"It was very refreshing," she tried to defend herself, though she internally knew how stupid she sounded.

Rafael clicked his tongue, and readjusted his weapons belt, "I'm giving you an opportunity to be honest with me, Hope."

"And why the fuck do I need to be honest with you?" She almost spat. Resurfaced memories of Celestria brought out even more nasty feelings for the King. And it was Rafael's job to protect the King. he could hardly even look at him.  
He looked slightly taken aback by her sudden hostility, but masked it well after a few seconds of it showing. Hope glared at him bitterly, shouldering past him and making her way into her closet.

"What got you into a prickly mood?" She heard him poke from behind the door, and she rolled her eyes. She changed out of her sweaty clothes, into some new training clothes.

She walked straight past Rafael, and reached to grab a bottle of water that he set down, chugging down all of it.

"That was my-" he started, before cutting himself off, turning away to what Hope guessed was him rolling his eyes.

"Come on," he almost grumbled, "You're wanted at Lunch."

She almost instantly felt bad for being so snappy to him, but after all of those thoughts about Celestria, she wanted to rip anyone in a 56 mile radius to her to shreds. She felt so great an hour ago with Josie, as well. And now she was being rude to Raf.

She screwed her eyes shut, "I'm sorry."

Rafael turned around, his eyes widened in shock, "What?"

"Sorry for being rude. I've just been...thinking about some stuff from my past. It wasn't fair on me to take it out on you."

Rafael frowned at her, "Did you get cloned? And became a nice version of Hope Marshall?"

She rolled her eyes teasingly, "Ha, ha. Very comedic, Rafael."

His lips tugged upwards, "Apology accepted," he said, refusing to look at the assassin as he did so.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some news shocks the Champions, Hope makes a friend, and a huge secret about Rafael is partially uncovered by Mikaelson herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I know I posted yesterday but I couldn't wait to get this chapter out there. I think this is one of my best chapters, and the ending just got my CHOKED UP. So don't expect this regularity of me posting all the time cause I am the most unreliable person ever lmao. But, sorry.

For the next four days, Hope awoke before dawn to train in her room, using whatever she could to exercise, anything would do with Hope. She was used to training with anything. Cut out bricks from her cell wall, rusty nails, cutlery, torn-up bits of garments, quite literally anything.

Around dawn, Rafael usually showed up for breakfast. Afterward, they ran through the palace gardens, where he kept pace at her side. Autumn had fully come, and the wind smelled of crisp leaves, dampness and snow. They would run until Hope began to groan and complain, which made Rafael give up due to the constant state of it.

Once they’d finished their run, they trained in a private room far from her competitors’ eyes. Until, that is, she collapsed to the ground and cried that she was about to die of hunger and fatigue. At lessons, the knives remained Hope’s favourite, but the wooden staff became dear; naturally, it had to do with the fact that she could freely whack him and not chop off an arm. Since her last meeting with Princess Josie, she hadn’t seen or heard from the princess—not even chatter from the servants. The same about the Princess Lizzie, or the Prince Milton. She was actually starting to miss that asshole. Fuck.

Rafael always came for lunch, and afterwards, she joined the other Champions for a few more hours of training under Kaleb’s watchful eye. Most of their training was just to make sure they could actually use weapons. And, of course, she kept her head down throughout it all, doing enough to keep Kaleb from critiquing her, but not enough to make him praise her the way he did Malivore.

Malivore. Ugh, how she loathed him! Kaleb practically worshipped the man—and even the other Champions nodded their respect when he passed by. No one bothered to comment on how perfect her form was. Was this how the other assassins at the Rebellion had felt all those years she had spent hogging her father’s attention? But here, it was hard to focus when Malivore was nearby, taunting and sneering, waiting for her to make one mistake. Hopefully he wouldn’t distract her at the first elimination test. Kaleb hadn’t given them any indication what they might be tested for, and Rafael was just as clueless. Malivore was literally perfect, it pissed Hope off. He didn't seem like a total bastard, but at the same time, Hope really wanted to punch him in the gut to wipe that stupid smirk off of his scarred face.

The day before the first Test, she knew something was wrong long before she got to the training hall. Rafael hadn’t shown up for breakfast, but rather sent her guards to bring her to the training hall to practice on her own. He didn’t show up for lunch, either, and by the time she was escorted to the hall, she was brimming with questions. Mainly about Rafael and whether he was alright. Not that she'd ever admit she was concerned for his wellbeing, though. That would be downright humiliating. 

Without Rafael to stand near, she lingered beside a pillar, watching the competitors file in, flanked by guards and their trainers. Kaleb wasn’t there yet—another oddity. And there were far too many guards in the training hall today.

“What do you suppose this is about?” Landon Kirby, the young thief from a neighbouring village, asked from beside her. After proving himself somewhat skilled during practice, many of the other competitors had sought him out, but he still opted to keep to himself.

“Captain Waithe didn’t train me this morning,” she offered, trying not to allow her concern for the captain clean off of her face.

Landon held out his hand. “Landon Kirby.”

“I know who you are,” she said, but shook his hand anyway. His grip was solid and firm, just like Hope's. Respect for the man seeped into the young assassin.

“Good. I’ve felt a bit invisible with that hulking buff-show showing off these past few days.” He jerked his chin toward Malivore, who was in the middle of examining his bulging biceps. Landon continued. “Did you see Jed? He looks like he’s going to be sick.” He pointed to the loudmouthed thief that Hope wanted to knock out cold. Normally, Jed could be found near Malivore, taunting the other Champions. But today he stood alone by the window, face pale and eyes wide.

“I heard him talking to Malivore,” said a timid voice behind them, and they found Pedro, the youngest assassin, standing nearby. She’d spent half a day watching Pedro—and while she only pretended to be mediocre, he truly could use the training.

“What’d he say?” Landon put his hands in his pockets. His clothes weren’t as ratty as the other competitors’; the mere fact that she’d actually heard his name implied he must have been a good thief in...well, wherever he came from.

Pedro’s freckled face paled a bit. “One of the champions was found dead this morning.”

A Champion was dead? And a notorious killer at that. “How?” she demanded. It was hard to keep the surprise off of her face. It suddenly made sense as to why Rafael wasn't there this morning. A wave of relief filled her. He wasn't dead. She meant....unfortunately for her he wasn't dead. Bummer...

Pedro swallowed hard. “Jed said it wasn’t pretty. Like someone ripped him wide open. He passed the body on his way here.” Landon cursed under his breath, and Hope studied the other Champions. A hush had fallen on the group, and clusters of them stood together, whispering. Jed’s story was spreading fast. Pedro went on. “He said Chastain’s body was in ribbons.”

A chill snaked down her spine, but she shook her head, just as a guard entered and told them that Kaleb had ordered them to have free rein of the training hall today and to practice what they wanted. Needing to distract herself from the image forming in her mind, she didn’t bother to say good-bye to Landon and Pedro as she strode to the weapons rack and gathered a belt strapped with throwing knives.

She took up a place near the archery targets; Landon joined her a moment later, and started firing his knives at the target. He hit the second ring, but never got any closer to the center. His skill with knives wasn’t nearly as good as his archery, she noted.

She drew a dagger from the belt. Who would have killed one of the Champions so brutally? And how had they gotten away with it, if the body was in the hall? This castle was swarming with guards. A Champion was dead, and just a day before their first Test; would this start a pattern?

Her focus narrowed to the small, black dot in the center of the target. She steadied her breathing as she cocked her arm, letting her wrist go loose. The sounds of the other Champions faded. The blackness of the bull’s-eye beckoned, and as she exhaled, she sent the dagger flying.

It sparkled, a shooting star of steel. She smiled grimly as it struck home.

Beside her, Landon swore colorfully when his dagger hit the third ring on his target, and her smile broadened, despite the shredded corpse that lay somewhere in the castle.  
Hope drew another dagger, but paused as Jed called to her from the ring where he sparred with Malivore. “Circus tricks ain’t much use when you’re the King’s Champion.” She shifted her gaze to him, but kept positioned toward the target. “You’d be better off on your back, learning tricks useful to a woman. In fact, I can teach you some tonight, if you’d like.” He laughed, and other Champions joined with him. Hope gripped the hilt of a dagger so hard that it hurt. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Malivore watching the scene with a frown on his huge face. Hmmm, weird.

“Don’t listen to them,” Landon murmured. He tossed another dagger, missing the bull’s-eye again. “They wouldn’t know the first thing to do with a woman, even if one walked stark naked into their bedroom.”

Hope threw her dagger, and the blade clanged as it landed a hair’s breadth from the one she’d already embedded in the bull’s-eye.

Landon’s dark brows rose, accentuating his gray eyes. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. “You’ve got impressive aim.” He told her.

“For a girl?” she challenged, raising an auburn eyebrow.

“No,” he said, and threw another dagger. “For anyone.” The dagger yet again missed the mark. He stalked to the target, yanking out all six daggers and shoving them in their sheaths before returning to the throwing line. Hope cleared her throat.

“You’re standing wrong,” she said, quietly enough so the other Champions couldn’t hear. “And you’re holding your wrist incorrectly.”

Landon lowered his arm. She took up her stance. “Legs like this,” she said. He studied her for a moment, then positioned his legs similarly. “Bend slightly at the knees. Shoulders back; loosen your wrist. Throw when you exhale.” She demonstrated for him, and her dagger found its mark.

“Show me again,” Landon said appreciatively.

She did so, and struck the target. Then she threw with her left hand, and fought her whoop of triumph as the blade sank into the handle of another dagger.

Landon focused on the target as he brought up his arm. “Well, you’ve just put me to shame,” he said, laughing under his breath as he lifted his dagger higher.

“Keep your wrist even looser,” was her reply. “It’s all about how you snap it.”

Landon obeyed, and as he exhaled a long breath, his dagger flew. It didn’t hit the bull’s-eye, but it came within the inner circle. His brows rose. “That’s a bit of an improvement.”  
“Just a bit,” she said, and held her ground as he gathered their knives from the two targets and handed hers back. She sheathed them in her belt. “So where are you from, Landon Kirby?” she asked. She assumed that this was probably the only one of the Champions that actually treated her with respect. The other disgusting, sexist pigs would never even talk to her, let alone compliment her and ask for her help. She figured that there was no point in being rude to one of the only people that treated her like an actual person instead of a spec of dust on the floor that they can just spit on because of her gender.

She schooled her features into polite interest as Landon nodded. “I'm from a small town called Perranth. It's not far from here, actually. It's about a day's walk, half a day on horseback. This is my first time out of Perranth, actually. You said you were from Bellhaven, didn’t you?” He asked her, actually peaking interest into her life.

“My father is a merchant,” she lied through her teeth, throwing another knife at the target. Bullseye. 

“And what does he think about a daughter who steals jewels for a living?” He queried, his eyebrows raised with amusement.

She conceded a smile and hurled a knife into the target. “He won’t be inviting me home for a while, that’s for certain.”

“Ah, you’re in good hands, though. You’ve got the best trainer out of anyone. I’ve seen you two running at dawn. I have to beg mine to put down the bottle and let me train outside of lessons.” He inclined his head toward his trainer, who sat against the wall, the hood of his cape over his eyes. “Sleeping, yet again.”

“The Captain of the Guard is a pain in my ass at times,” she said, chucking another knife, “but you’re right—he’s the best.” She hoped and prayed that Landon wouldn't tell Rafael she just said that. Because if he told him, she'd never hear the end of it.

Landon was quiet for a moment before he said: “The next time we pair off for lessons, find me, will you?”

“Why?” She reached for another dagger, but found she’d depleted her stock again.

Landon threw another dagger, and it hit the bull’s-eye this time. “Because my gold’s on you winning this whole damn thing.”

She smiled a little. “Let’s hope you won’t be eliminated at the Test tomorrow.” She scanned the training hall for any sign of the challenge to come the following morning, but found nothing out of the ordinary. The other competitors remained mostly quiet—save for Malivore and Jed—and many of them were pale as snow. “And let’s hope neither of us winds up like the Champion who ended up dead,” she added, and meant it.

-

“Don’t you ever do anything other than read?” said Rafael. She started from her chair on the balcony as he took a seat beside her. The late-afternoon sunlight warmed her face, and the last balmy breeze of autumn rushed through her unbound hair.

She stuck out her tongue. “Shouldn’t you be looking into the Champion’s murder?” He never came to her rooms after lunch. It was a thing.

Something dark flitted across his eyes. “That’s none of your business. And don’t try to pry details from me about it,” he added as she opened her mouth. He pointed to the book in her lap. “I saw at lunch that you’re reading The Wind and the Rain, and I forgot to ask what you thought.”

He’d really come to talk about a book when a Champion’s corpse had been found that morning? “It’s a bit dense,” she admitted, holding up the brown volume in her lap. When he didn’t reply, she asked, “Why are you really here?”

“I had a long day.”

She massaged an ache in her knee. “Because of Bill’s murder?”

“Because the prince dragged me into a council meeting that lasted for three hours,” he said, a muscle in his jaw feathering.

"Oh, no. Council meetings, the world will surely end if you do not attend them."

There was a ghost of a smile on his face as he watched the sky melt into a smear of tangerine. “What do your parents make of their daughter being a part of the Rebellion?” He asked her, refraining eye contact.

“My parents are dead,” she lied. “They died when I was eight.”

“So you—”

Her heart thundered in her chest. “I was born in Terrasen, then I became an assassin, then I went to many other places, and now I’m here. And that’s it.” She lied. It was so easy to lie, it was like a second nature to her. Though she hated lying to Rafael, she had to. Even if he was being so honest and open with her. One day she might be able to tell the truth. One day maybe the both of them would have escaped the King. Maybe.

Silence fell; then he asked, “Where’d you get that scar on your right hand?” She didn’t need to glance at the jagged line that ran along the top of her hand, just above her wrist. She flexed her fingers.

“When I was twelve, I went on a mission with a friend of mine called Roman. We were supposed to bring someone back to the Rebellion unharmed for information. But, when we got there, I was caught by some guards. Roman ran away, and didn’t help me. And I was left to fend myself.” She gave him a distant smile, “I bet Milton didn’t do that to you.” She added, her heart feeling really heavy in her hollow rib-cage.

“No,” he said quietly. “No, he didn’t.” He cleared his throat and stood. “The first Test is tomorrow. Are you ready?”

“Of course,” she lied, though he probably saw right through that one. Her shaky breath gave away her true feelings, and the truth was that she was absolutely terrified of winding up dead tomorrow. It was a possibility. And no matter how good she liked to think she was, she knew that the others would stop at nothing if it meant that they didn't have to go back to prison. And that included murdering people.

He remained standing there for a moment longer, studying her. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he said, but Hope caught his arm as he stood to leave.

"Wait," she muttered, feeling so embarrassed as he sat back down again, an eyebrow risen.

"I...um...why are you so protective of Milton?" she asked. She had wanted to ask that for a while now. She knew that he was protective of all of the Royals, but she noticed that it was Milton especially.

"Because it's my duty to make sure no harm comes to any member of the Royal family."

"Well, yeah, but, I don't know, I've just noticed that you treat him differently than the others."

"That's because he's my best friend. We grew up beside each other, did everything together. We had classes together, learned the same things, spent all of our time together. We were the only two male children growing up in the castle. So, naturally, we became friends. Wouldn't you do whatever it took to protect your best friend?" He asked.

Hope pursed her lips, and she noticed that there was something that Rafael was holding back. Something he wasn't telling her.

"It's something more than that, though, isn't it?" She asked. She knew what she was doing was dangerous, but he had to know that he wasn't alone in this. 

Rafael stared at her, something shifting in his face, "I don't know what you're talking about," he denied, clenching his jaw.

"Yes, you do, Rafael," she told him softly, and she scooched closer to the Captain of the Guard.

"No, I don't," he shook his head vigorously.

"Yes, you do," she continued, "I wasn't too sure about it, but now I'm almost certain. I mean, I didn't want to say anything just in case, but now I'm positive. Rafael..."

"Stop," he whispered, but in the silent room, Hope heard it as clear as a blue sky.

"It's alright, Rafael-" she started, but he abruptly stood up.

"Enough of this nonsense." He told her, and she could see that he was shaking now.

"Rafael. It's alright-"

"But it isn't," she saw tears fill his eyes, "It's not...it- it's not alright."

"Yes, it is," she reached forwards to grab his hands, but he took a step back.

"I...I need to go..."

"Rafael-" she called after him, but he was already gone. 

She wrapped her arms around herself, a cold wind picking up the skirts of her dress and blowing them behind her.


End file.
